


Things I Almost Remember

by louissass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, First Dates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louissass/pseuds/louissass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“No, I don’t remember, because that was not me. That was your friend Toby and I am Louis.” He says calmly, remembering Liam’s earlier advice. (“Keep calm and be patient. Apparently he was heartbroken when Toby disappeared, it’ll take him a while to get used to it.”) </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, the one where every one in town thinks Louis looks like a boy that died eleven years ago, and he accidentally falls for the dead boy's best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things I Almost Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Centa0592](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centa0592/gifts).



> hii !! Thankyou for the amazing prompt, I really hope I did it justice !!! 
> 
> Thanks so much to my last minute betas T and Z you really pulled through for me guys I love you <33
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy ! :)

When he thinks about it, Louis could probably count all the times he’s been nervous on one hand. His first ever job interview, meeting his first boyfriend’s parents, the first time he got on a plane. There’s so few times that Louis has been nervous, that it’s probably quite a big deal he’s nervous now, sitting at this table in this restaurant, waiting for a certain someone to walk through the door.

And it _is_ a big deal, because it’s _Harry_.

Harry, who for some unknown reason absolutely despises him, who ran away from him when they first met, who hides behind pretty boy Zayn to fight his battles for him. Harry who is all legs and hair and bright eyes and abs. Harry, who has given Louis one chance to prove himself before he has to back off and never talk to Harry again. Harry, whose impression of Louis is tarnished by the memory of someone else, someone Louis is definitely _not_ (despite what everyone else says). This is his one chance to show Harry that Louis is different, Louis is not the arsehole Harry thinks he is, Louis is kind and gentle and loving.

It’s not even as if Louis knows Harry all that well, he only met him a few weeks ago. But he _wants_ to know him, and that’s the nerve-wracking part. There’s an unexplainable pull Louis feels towards this man, something that’s drawing them together, something he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to. It’s still far too much of a coincidence that Louis got transferred to England right after bumping into Harry, too much of a coincidence that the place where Harry gets his lunch happens to be the closest diner to Louis’ new flat, too much of a coincidence that the coffee shop Louis chose to sulk in is the one Harry’s roommate works in. And Louis doesn’t believe in fate, but the universe is making it very difficult to keep that opinion.

Louis checks his watch and glances at the door. He’s been sitting here for fifteen minutes and Harry still hasn’t shown up. It shouldn’t even matter if he doesn’t show, Louis can just move out of the dingy B&B he’s staying in and go back to his life in London, go back to his job, and forget all about Harry. But it does matter. It matters so much Louis thinks he might cry if he gets stood up. Not because of the embarrassment, but because he _failed._ He failed to do the one thing he promised Harry he could, and that’s fucked up because it’s not even Louis’ fault that he didn’t show. _If_ he doesn’t show.

The waitress comes back and asks Louis if he’s ready to order, but he just smiles politely as he repeats his earlier answer of _no, I’m waiting for someone_. She gives him a sympathetic smile and takes away the empty bread basket on the table before scuttling off. Louis bangs his head on the table, he absolutely hates being pitied.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, staring at the cream table cloth with a few suspicious looking stains, but it doesn’t matter because the next time he looks up there is someone sitting in the seat opposite him, the menu covering their face. Louis frowns, because no, that’s Harry’s seat. What would he think if he walked in right now to another person having dinner with Louis? He’d blow his top, that’s for sure. This is Louis’ one chance, he can _not_ fuck it up.

“Umm excuse me, that’s actually reserved for someone else.” He says grumpily, tapping the person’s hand to try and get them to move.

“Oh really,” The person says, putting down the menu and _oh shit_ it’s Harry. He actually showed up, Louis thinks he might cry with relief. “And who might that be, hmm?”

“Harry…” Louis whispers, completely in awe. Harry is effortlessly beautiful, as usual, his hair falling in perfect ringlets over his shoulders, his eyes dangerously green, his lips plump and wet. He’s wearing a shirt that’s probably branded, but Louis doesn’t even care because Harry has his _nipples_ out and that’s…wow. Louis may have bitten off more than he can chew with this one. Harry raises an eyebrow, causing Louis to shake himself out of his daze and fall back in to reality.

_ Okay, Louis, this is your once chance don’t blow it. _

“Harry, hi. You look lovely tonight.” He says again, this time more firm and sure of himself. He’s determined to do this right.

“Don’t bother trying to sweet talk me, I’m only here because Zayn forced me to come.” Harry mutters, not taking his eyes away from the menu. Louis slumps in his seat. “What, did you think it’d be that easy to win me over?”

“I–”

“Are you ready to order?” Susan, the waitress, interrupts. _Fuck you Susan, I didn’t need your pity._

“Yes we are thanks,” Harry says politely, before rattling off his order. It sounds really nice coming from Harry’s lips, much nicer than it did on the menu, but Louis doesn’t want to be seen as a copycat and sticks to his own.

“The stuffed Chicken wrapped in Parma ham for me please, with mash instead of chips.” He mumbles, not taking his eyes off the notepad Susan is holding. Louis’ never had Chicken wrapped in Parma ham before, but something about it seems familiar and safe, which gives him more confidence on this date. It’s contradictory and confusing so Louis doesn’t dwell on it too long.

However he doesn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes harden at the sound of his order. He’s frowning, Louis can see him retreating back to his little box, which is not what he wants at all.

“You didn’t just fucking–” Harry mutters, cutting himself off with a sigh. Louis clears his throat, trying to ignore the fact that Harry is cursing him under his breath.

“Is white alright for you, H?” When Harry doesn’t respond, Louis just orders a bottle of house white anyway and thanks the waitress as she takes the menus from the table. Harry is still lost inside his own head, muttering to himself under his breath about god knows what, and Louis doesn’t really want to interrupt that. But he knows he’s going to have to if he’s going to prove to this man that he is worth it.

“Harry?”

Harry snaps his head up, cold eyes meeting Louis’. His lip is curled up in a sneer (which should be unattractive but it really, really isn’t) and his eyes narrow slightly, fist clenching on the table. “How could you do that?”

“Wha–”

“How could you go and do that and then act like you don’t even know me?” He seethes. “Honestly, Toby, you’re such a shit liar.”

Louis sighs deeply. _Back to this again are we?_ “Harry, we’ve been through this. Just because I look like your friend doesn’t mean I’m him, okay? My name’s Louis Tomlinson, not Toby Lunan, yeah?”

“That was _our_ meal, T. First meal you ever cooked, remember?” His knuckles are white where they’re clutching the napkin and his face is red with anger. Louis is scared (and also a little bit turned on).

“No, I don’t remember, because that was not me. That was your friend Toby and I am Louis.” He says calmly, remembering Liam’s earlier advice. (“Keep calm and be patient. Apparently he was heartbroken when Toby disappeared, it’ll take him a while to get used to it.”) Louis thinks about taking Harry’s hands in his own, but realises that would only makes the situation worse and picks up the bottle of wine instead, filling both their glasses.

“Then _why_ are you messing with me?” He shouts. The restaurant goes silent for a long moment, before the buzz returns, seemingly bored with Harry’s outburst. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, Harry, something is just pulling me to you.” Louis replies. And it’s the truth, he really doesn’t know why he can’t just leave Harry alone, but he can’t and that’s that.

“It’d be so much easier if you could.” Harry mutters, resting his head on his hand. “It’d be so much easier if I wasn’t drawn to you as well.”

Louis doesn’t think he was supposed to hear that, so he doesn’t comment on it, but inside his mind is racing. Harry feels the connection between them. He _feels_ it. Well, at least Louis isn’t going crazy, at least he isn’t some weird stalker, at least he does have a bit of a chance with this man – even if it is incredibly slim. Maybe he shouldn’t get his hopes up too much, but Louis feels giddy with glee that he’s got a chance, he can make this right.

“So come on then, tell me about yourself,” He smiles, resting his chin on his hands.

Harry scoffs and leans back. “Oh no, we aren’t doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This,” He repeats, pointing between them. “The whole ‘let me tell you about my life because we don’t know anything about each other’ thing. Not like that’s true, is it?”

Louis bites his lip, _stay calm, stay calm._ “Well, you don’t know anything about my life, do you?” Harry opens his mouth to speak (probably something along the lines of _“Yes I do know you Toby!”_ if Louis were to guess) but Louis holds a finger up to shush him. “If we assume for a second that I am your childhood friend, you only knew him until he was fifteen, right? So that’s eleven years of his life you know nothing about. But, considering I am _Louis,_ not Toby, then there’s twenty-six years of my life you know nothing about. And similarly twenty years of your life I know nothing about. See?”

“I’m twenty-three,” He grits out, hands clenching impossibly tighter on the tablecloth.

“Right…” Louis mumbles, sinking back in his chair. There really is no way of winning with this man.

“And I don’t need to know anything about you. Like I said I’m only here as a courtesy to Zayn.”

_ Patience, Louis, have patience _ . Oh, fuck it. “You literally just said you felt a connection between us. Stop trying to deny that you actually like me and grow a pair, will you?”

Harry blinks slowly.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re hiding behind this childhood friend thing because you don’t want to admit that you actually like me, and frankly I’m getting sick of it. He’s _dead_ , Harry. I’m really sorry to tell you this but it’s very likely that your friend is dead. And yeah, maybe it is a coincidence that I look a bit like him but that doesn’t mean we’re the same person.” Louis takes a gulp of air. He’s starting to regret bringing this up, but there’s no turning back now. “You just– it was tragic, okay? What happened to you and your friend was awful and I’m truly sorry that it did, but you’ve got to move on. It was eleven years ago.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stares. His eyes are clouded with tears, and Louis thinks that maybe no one’s ever been this blunt with him about it before. He can imagine why, a frightened twelve year old boy who almost drowned and witnessed his friend being kidnapped on the same day, they’d want to coddle him, make sure they didn’t cause any psychological damage. Louis hates that he has to be the one to break it to him like this, but it’s been _weeks_ , weeks of Louis tiptoeing around Harry and his strangely overprotective friend, and he’s had enough. He just wants to have a _life_ here.

“Alright I’ve got a pork chop for Harry, and the stuffed chicken for his very dashing friend,” Susan interrupts, putting the food on the table. She gives Louis a wink before turning away. “You kids enjoy!”

“I have to go.”

Louis doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening before the chair is scraping back and his date is running out the door. He sighs and puts his head in his hands, scowling at the chicken on the table below him, wondering what on Earth just happened.

***

“Oh hey Louis,” Liam says as Louis walks through the doors to the bar. It’s probably too early to drink, but Louis couldn’t care less. “I heard you had the big date last night. How did it go?”

“Absolutely dreadfully, Liam.” He sighs, reaching for the gin and tonic Liam had put on the bar for him. “He ran off before we even got a chance to eat.”

“What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

Liam laughs, leaning back on the cold drinks fridge behind the bar with his arms crossed over his chest. “I know about as much about Harry as I do about you, which isn’t much. But one thing I do know is that he doesn’t run away from his problems.”

“Are you saying I’m a problem?” Louis teases, taking another sip of his drink.

“Well, yeah.”

“You know I was only joking,” He muses, “But now I’m sort of offended.”

“I don’t see why you should be offended by the truth though?” Liam says with a frown. Louis sighs and rests his head on his hand, gesturing for Liam to explain. “You’re standing in the way of him moving on with his life, which is a pretty big problem in my opinion.”

“Gee, thanks Liam, you’re making me feel so much better.”

Liam snorts quietly, before walking over to the other side of the bar to take an order. The only other saddo drinking at ten am besides Louis and it’s the local nutcase – and even _he_ is only asking for a soft drink. Louis sighs, trying not to think about it too much and staring at his half empty drink. He only looks up when Liam comes back, leaning over the taps with a smirk on this face. “Stop moping will you? It’s driving away the customers.”

“Shove off,” He mutters, twirling the stirring stick round in his drink. Louis half wishes this was a posh bar, at least then he’d get a wedge of lime.

“Louis why are you even here? Why aren’t you trying to get Harry back?” Liam asks. One thing Louis likes about Liam, compared to everyone else in this town, is that he doesn’t bring up the fact that he looks like the dead boy. Maybe it’s because Liam wasn’t here when Toby disappeared, but that doesn’t matter. The point is, Liam respects him enough to call him by his real name, and maybe that means Louis can put up with his sociopathic tendencies. 

“He made it pretty clear how he felt about me last night, thanks. Don’t think I want to put myself through the embarrassment again.”

Liam hums quietly, “Which is how exactly?”

“He hates me,” He groans, banging his head on the bar top.

“Did he actually say he hates you?”

Louis pauses for a moment, “No,” he says, his voice muffled where his lips are smushed against the wood. 

“Then how do you know he hates you, Louis?” He asks. Louis groans again, actually kind of hating Liam for being so right. 

“I just _know_ , alright?”

Liam sighs, “Louis,”

“What?” He mumbles. 

“Look at me.” Louis rolls his eyes, but reluctantly picks his head up, staring at Liam with dead eyes. Liam’s standing much closer than Louis last remembers, and he briefly wonders how far the man is leaning over the bar. “Get your head out of your arse. Stop crying about what happened and go fix it. That’s all you can do.”

Louis sticks up his middle finger. He hates it when people are so annoyingly right. 

“If I knew where he was then maybe I could.” He retorts, emptying his glass. Louis smacks it on the bar, silently demanding another from the barman with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“Oh Louis, Louis, Louis,” Liam chuckles, reaching for the bottle of gin, “Ye of little faith.”

Louis doesn’t quite know what he’s on about, but Liam has alcohol so he’s not about to walk off now. No, what he intends on doing is getting absolutely pissed out of his head and completely forgetting about Harry and their awful date. Yes, good plan.

***

Two hours later, and Louis is standing outside a terraced house, squinting at the piece of paper Liam gave him. It turns out that Liam knows where Harry lives (apparently he goes to university with his roommate or something) and he gave Louis the address so he can “fix his fuck up”, as Liam so delicately put it. However, Louis is confused, because the address he was given is 25B. There’s 25 and 27 right next to each other, but no 25B. It’s the wrong house, Louis knows it is, but he’s here now, and it’d give him an opportunity to practice his speech to win Harry back.

Louis walks up to the door, only vaguely registering the buzzers to the right of the door, one labelled 25A, one labelled 25B, and knocks on the wooden porch door. To his surprise, the door opens immediately. The next thing he knows, Louis is falling to the floor, his head throbbing where the door made contact with is head.

“Oh shit, shit I’m so s– oh. It’s you.” 

In the back of his mind, Louis recognises the voice, but he can’t quite put a name or a face to it right now. He’s having trouble staying awake to be perfectly honest.

“What are you doing here?” The voice asks again and Louis forces himself to look up and meet their frown. It’s Harry, he recognises it now, the man he went on a date with last night, the man he came looking for this morning.

“Came to talk to you.” He winces. His head really hurts, but Harry doesn’t make any move to help him stand up, so Louis pushes himself up on shaky legs, steadying himself on the rose bush to his left. The ground is spinning less and less the longer he stands upright for, which Louis hopes is a good sign.

“What for?”

“I wanted to apologise,” Louis blinks his eyes open a few more times before he can finally see clearly. Harry looks beautiful, as always, despite being in jogging bottoms and a black t-shirt with some sort of yellow stain on it. “For what I said to you last night. It was totally uncalled for and I’m so sorry I said that to you.”

Harry blinks. “Okay.”

“So, are we good?”

“No,” Harry snorts, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Did you really think one little apology would make this all go away?”

“No but–” Louis sighs. “I thought it would help. At least a little bit.”

“Well it didn’t.”

And in that moment, along with so many others, Louis wants to strangle Harry for being so damn stubborn.

“Please, Harry, can’t you just give me another chance?” He begs, following after Harry as he begins to walk down the street. All this time, Louis has maintained that he is definitely above begging. Never in his life has he got on his knees for another person (except, y’know, for cock) and up until right now, Louis thought he never would. But, as always, Harry is the exception. The one who makes Louis do things he’d never dream of doing. It’s infuriating.

“Why should I do that? I gave you your chance last night, and you blew it.” Harry replies blankly. Not showing any emotion is so much worse than being angry with him, in Louis’ opinion. Right now Louis kind of wishes he’d throw a punch at him again, anything other than these agonising blank stares.

“You did _not_ give me a chance,” Louis says. There’s a hint of fire behind his words. He’s not going down without a fight. “You didn’t even sit through the whole dinner! Just ran off as soon as you got a little bit mad.”

“ _A little bit mad_ – are you kidding me?” He seethes. Harry’s eyes are fiery, his body language stiff and guarded, his tone bitter. Maybe Louis shouldn’t have said that, but then again maybe he should have – at least now the blank stares are gone. “You accused my best friend of being dead, when he was sitting right in front of me. Do you understand how upsetting that is, Toby?”

“Oh, we’re not back to this again, are we?” Louis sighs, slightly annoyed. There’s only so much of this bullshit he can take.

“Yes, we are back to this again because I can’t believe you’re still keeping up the pretense. As if I wouldn’t know my best friend when I saw him.”

“It’s been eleven years, Harry.” He replies with a roll of his eyes,  “I’m sure your memory’s been a bit warped since then.”

“How come it’s not just me, then? How come everyone in town recognised you immediately? Don’t even deny it, word gets around when you live in a place like this.”

Louis folds his arm and huffs, staring at the ground. It’s so unfair that Harry makes such a compelling argument. “Maybe everyone’s memory has been warped.”

“No, look you don’t get it, do you? You just don’t get it.” Harry says, stopping suddenly which causes Louis to collide into his back. “I don’t understand what happened, T, but you are him. Even your names are the same!”

“What? I don’t know what you’re on, mister, but Louis and Toby sound nothing–”

“Tobias Walter Lunan. That’s your full name. TWL. If you flip that over, what do you get? LWT. Louis W Tomlinson. There’s no doubt in my mind that your middle name begins with W.” He says angrily. Louis gulps. His middle name is William. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

“That– that’s a coincidence,” Louis mutters shakily.

“Still don’t believe me? Okay.” Harry replies, his voice becoming angrier. “You were born on the 24th of December, 1989.”

Louis gulps again. He was.

“Your favourite colour is red,” Harry takes a step forward and begins to count the facts off on his fingers. “You eat Cheerios for breakfast, you want a dog called Clive, you eat left handed even though you write with your right, your favourite author is Terry Pratchet,”

Louis can feel tears brimming his eyes. With each true fact, it becomes even more difficult for Louis to deny that Harry knows a lot about him, and with the only plausible explanation being that they know each other, it’s becoming incredibly hard for Louis to deny that he _is_ Toby.

“You love Pokemon and hate Fifa, even though you love a good game of footie. Your dad left when you were young, so your mum brought you up on her own, you–”

“No, no that’s wrong,” Louis interrupts finally. His throat feels heavy and his heart is racing, but he’s starting to feel a little confident that it was all just a coincidence. Louis’ mum didn’t bring him up, and if Toby’s did then it means they aren’t the same. “Both my parents are dead.”

“No, Louis, they aren’t.” 

Louis sucks in a breath. That– Harry just called him Louis. For the first time since they’d met, Harry had called him Louis. He should be celebrating right now, but instead he’s panicking. Because _he_ is Louis, and Harry just said his parents _aren’t_ dead, and Louis believes him, because why would Harry lie? What does he gain by lying about something like that? Louis doesn’t understand. His breathing is speeding up.

“They are, they are,” He whispers frantically. “They– I’m an orphan. I’ve been an orphan since I was seven.”

“I’m sorry but you haven’t.” Harry’s not angry anymore. His voice is soft and sympathetic and he’s comforting Louis. _No, I don’t need your sympathy!_ “I spoke to your mum not a week ago. She’s very much alive and kicking.”

“You spoke to _his_ mum, Toby’s mum, not mine. Mine’s dead. She’s dead.” He’s gasping for breath, only slightly grateful when Harry reaches out and grabs his shoulder to steady him. There’s a high possibility Louis would’ve toppled over if not.

“No, Louis, I spoke to _your_ mum. Johannah Poulston, though she likes to be called Jay. She’s a nurse, works at the local hospital. She’s got brown hair and blue eyes, exactly like yours. She used to take you to watch ballet and helped you pick out comic books.” Harry’s says, his naturally slow and deep voice calming Louis somewhat. However, his words hurt, because even though there’s very little Louis remembers of his mum, what he does remember is that she was a nurse, and she took him to watch ballet and to the book shop to buy comic books, and that everyone referred to her as _Jay_. “She’s _your_ mum, Louis, and she’s still here.”

There are very few times in Louis’ short life that he has been lost for words, but this is one of them. He just doesn’t know what to say. So, instead of saying anything, he cries. Louis cries and cries until he has no tears left, at which point he sobs loudly. He cries because everything he thought he knew isn’t true, he cries because he is a terrible son who thought his own mother was dead, he cries because he has apparently lost eleven years of his life, he cries because he _is_ Toby. 

Louis cries, and Harry lets him. Harry holds Louis in his arms and lets him cry until the afternoon sun is long gone and the sky is clouded over, apparently sharing Louis’ misery. When he finally lifts his head out of Harry’s chest, Louis notices that they’ve moved location. They’re now sitting on a bench in the park they were not meters from before. He can see Harry’s front door from here.

“Hi.”

Louis looks up at Harry and smiles, sniffing a bit. “Hi.”

“You feeling better?”

“I mean, as good as I can feel when I’ve just found out that everything I thought I knew turned out to be a lie.” Louis – Toby – says (he doesn’t even know what to call himself in his own head. How fucked up is that?) sniffling a little bit. It’s still hard for him to comprehend, but he’s trying to get used to it.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” Harry says, not sounding sorry at all. “I for one certainly didn’t expect you to be clueless. Thought you were pulling my leg or something.”

Louis bites his lip. “Harry, I don’t know what kind of shitty person I was before, but I know the me now would never do something like that to anyone, let alone someone as sweet as you.”

“Are you flirting with me, Toby?” He asks, a small smirk on his face.

“Even though I am this Toby guy, I’d still rather be called Louis,” He says, giggling a little when Harry salutes him. “And yes, maybe I am.”

“I know it’s not the most important thing on your mind right now, but I’m willing to give you a second chance if you are.” 

Harry’s right, it’s not the most important thing on his mind, not in the slightest – he’s still got his very much alive mother to think about, and his missing past to ponder over –  but it still means the world to him that Harry is willing to have another go. Not everything revolves around his love life, Louis knows that, but it gives him one thing to be certain of when everything else in his life is hazy. Maybe that’s all he needs right now.

***

“Can you tell me about him?”

They’re lying on the grass in the park, watching the sunset. Between them, their hands are linked loosely – though Harry insists he only held Louis’ hand to stop him picking at the scabs in his arm from where he grabbed the rose bush earlier – and their shoulders are touching. They’d been lying in silence for a while, purely content with enjoying the view before them, until Louis had finally spoken out.

Harry turns to him with a frown. “Who?”

“Toby– me, I guess. Tell me about me.” He breathes out deeply, letting his eyes slip close for a second. Louis tries not to think too hard about how fucked up that sounds. Harry smiles and gives his hand a tight squeeze.

After another beat of silence, Harry starts to talk in his slow, syrupy voice. He tells Louis story after story about their childhood together, and after each one Harry turns to him with a hopeful smile and four simple words; _“do you remember, Lou?”_ Each time Louis shakes his head sadly, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to remember, not when Harry does for him.

Yeah, he thinks, maybe everything is going to be just fine.


End file.
